


Dream the World

by ruby_took



Series: Dream the World [1]
Category: The Sandman (Comics), Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crossover, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Gwen Friendly, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 07:01:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21095348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruby_took/pseuds/ruby_took
Summary: A story about the power of dreams.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on LJ ages ago, and I have finally decided to give the story a new home here. I'm new to AO3, so if I'm missing any tags, etc, please let me know.
> 
> It follows on directly after the end of "Children of Earth", so there is a major character death, but it's a fix-it, so it'll all turn out all right.
> 
> For the purposes of this story, Jack and Ianto have been sharing a flat for a while.

Jack lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The crisis was averted, the 456 defeated, but there was none of the satisfaction he usually felt when the world had been saved once again. The price had been too high this time. Much too high.

Sacrificing his grandson, his daughter’s eyes full of hate...and Ianto dead in his arms. Pressing a last kiss to motionless lips, knowing they’d never kiss him back again.

Jack’s heart constricted and a horribly empty void opened up in his chest. He felt cold, so very cold.

A million questions flittered through his mind. Why hadn’t he insisted on Ianto’s staying with Gwen? Why hadn’t he gotten him out of the building quicker? But most importantly, just why? Why him?

He’d always feared that Torchwood would steal Ianto from him, of course – Tosh’s and Owen’s deaths had only highlighted how fragile a mortal life was – but he’d hoped...

He’d dared to hope that they could beat the odds, at least a little; that he would have a few more years with Ianto yet, years to make memories in. It wasn’t fair. He’d only just come to realise that he truly loved Ianto, and now he was gone and Jack couldn’t bear it.

_I want him back_, Jack prayed to whomever was inclined to listen. His vision blurred with tears he hadn’t even been aware of shedding. _Please, I want Ianto back. Please!_

Curling into foetal position, Jack cried himself to sleep.

_When he looked around, Jack found himself in front of a huge gate to something that looked like a cross between a palace and a cavern. A green dragon-like creature – a wyvern, maybe – sat above the gate, while a gryphon and a hippogriff flanked its sides. They all eyed Jack._

_“Why are you here?” the gryphon asked. Its voice was strange, like something just at the edge of hearing. It touched against a primal part of the mind, and Jack shivered. “Our master is very busy.”_

_Jack was about to explain that he didn’t even know where he was and had no intention of disturbing anyone, when the gryphon tilted its head, as if listening to something Jack couldn’t hear._

_The gryphon’s eyes turned back to Jack. “You may enter.”_

_Jack quickly stepped through the gate and followed the passageway beyond, which lead to another door. It opened up to something akin to a throne room. And on the throne sat..._

_Well, no, it_ wasn’t _Ianto, despite wearing the features Jack knew so well. The skin was too pale – not like Ianto’s Celtic-pale complexion and not the pallor of death, but white, like a body that had never contained any blood at all – and the eyes were black, like holes opening out onto the universe; a single star seemed to twinkle in their depths._

_“You’re a rare visitor to the Dreaming, Jack Harkness.” There was a slight hint of mockery in the way his name was spoken, as if the other man knew that it was not the name Jack had been born with. And even though this was not Ianto, Jack could have wept with a tangle of joy and longing at hearing the beloved Welsh vowels and deep voice. There was a strange resonance, though, as if the voice that was reaching his ears was not the one he ended up hearing._

_“I... I lost...” Jack swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat._

_“Yes.” Understanding. Knowing. “I cannot bring back the dead.”_

_Jack’s shoulders slumped in defeat._

_The stranger looked at him thoughtfully and continued, “People underestimate the power of dreams.” Jack looked up, startled at the apparent non sequitur. “Every dream shapes the world. Every night. A single mind is not strong enough to give it substance, but if enough minds were to dream the same thing at the same time…”_

_“...It could change the world,” Jack said slowly. A tiny murmur of hope was beginning to stir in his stomach. “Why are you telling me this?”_

_“Revelation is the province of dreams.” An enigmatic smile curled at the stranger’s mouth. “Do you know what to do?”_

_“I think so…”_

_“Then I wish you luck, Jack Harkness. Wake up now.”_

Jack started awake.

Much to his surprise, the dream didn’t fade in the way dreams usually did. It felt more like the memory of something that had really happened than something conjured up by his imagination.

Sagging back into the pillow, Jack automatically flung his arm out across the other side of the bed, flinching when his hand encountered nothing but too-cold sheets.

His mind wandered back to the dream. It had left a burgeoning sense of hope in the pit of his stomach that Jack didn’t quite dare to touch. It couldn’t really work, could it? Thoughts couldn’t change the world, right?

_Worked for the Doctor, when Martha travelled the world that year, getting people to think the Doctor’s name all at the same time. It gave him what he needed to defeat the Master._

That was true, of course, but all those minds had been connected through the Archangel Network. And even leaving that to one side, dreams were not so easily controlled. Who knew how long it would take to spread the idea to the number of people necessary to have any chance of enough of them dreaming the same thing at the same time?

_So? This might be your only chance._

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? It might seem like an impossible task, but if it was the only way to have Ianto in his arms again, well… Not to mention that Jack hated feeling so helpless, and it would be good to have a goal to focus on, to have something, anything, he could do to end the nightmare he was stuck in.

Of course, there was still the question of what the dream should be. No matter how important Ianto was to Jack, he would hardly be able to persuade people who’d never met Ianto to dream him back into existence. That meant that the obvious option left was to ensure that the 456 were eliminated. Shaken up as they were right now, people were likely to snatch up any possibility to undo what had happened.

The memory of Ianto’s words to him sounded somewhere in his head: _“The Jack I know would have stood up to them.”_

Yes, that was it, that’s what the dream should be. Humanity standing up to the 456 in 1965, destroying them utterly, so that this second encounter would never take place.

As he got out of bed, Jack’s mind was already busy going over all the things he’d need. He felt better than he had for some time. Pain still twined around his heart, but the horrible helplessness was dissipating, replaced by determination. This wasn’t the end, he wouldn’t let it be. He wasn’t ready to let go of Ianto yet.

Jack got dressed, unconsciously choosing the light blue shirt Ianto had once told him he liked, all the while running through preparations in his head. He’d lost his wrist strap, and with it all its handy translation gadgets, which meant that he would have to find another way to ensure that he would be understood everywhere he went.

Tosh had been working on some translation software before she—well, it should still be available on the server somewhere, so if he could find a working Bluetooth headset and modify it to translate what he said…

He wasn’t a technological genius by any stretch, but he had the knowledge of future discoveries on his side, and the temporary Hub they’d set up in London should have everything he needed.

Despite this, assembling the improvised translation device required his full attention, but that suited Jack just fine. As long as he focused on the task at hand, he wouldn’t think about how likely it was that the dream had been nothing but a dream, or about the sheer scope of what he was attempting to do, the impossibility of it. He wouldn’t allow himself to think like that, he couldn’t. One thing at the time. That was the key. If he looked too far ahead, it would drive him mad.

So Jack threw himself into his work, not stopping to sleep, not stopping for anything but the bare necessities, until he had what he needed: a headset that would not only translate what he said, but also what he heard.

Everything else was quickly taken care of. Jack had resolved to start his journey in Cardiff, using the opportunity to tie up a few loose ends.

Jack’s heart was heavy when he put his and Ianto’s shared flat up for sale with instructions to give the money to a local children’s hospice with a name he couldn’t pronounce; he had no intention of waiting around for the sale to be finalised, and the money might as well be put to good use. This had been the only place he’d truly felt at home in a long time, and it hurt to leave it behind. Still, he no longer needed it in this timeline – it could never be home without Ianto anyway – and if he managed to change reality, anything he did now was irrelevant.

He didn’t need to pack much – one of the advantages of having lived as long as he had was that he had plenty of money saved – just a few essentials. In the spur of the moment, Jack grabbed Ianto’s dark red shirt out of the wardrobe. It was freshly washed and smelled of nothing but washing powder, but the texture of the fabric was familiar and reassuring between his fingers, and as he carefully put it into his backpack, Jack couldn’t bring himself to wonder if needing that comfort made him pathetic.

Taking one last look around the flat before releasing the breath he’d been holding, he stepped through the door and closed it behind him. Time to get going. Time to do something about this mess.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack hadn’t really given much thought to how best to approach what he planned to do, but as it turned out, it wasn’t necessary. Support groups for those affected by recent events had sprung up everywhere, and that was the ideal starting point. Who would be more eager to undo what happened than those traumatised by it, after all? Of course, there was an understandable level of scepticism at the concept of a dream coming true, but all in all, Jack found that people were keen to hear what he had to say.

_“In 1965, twelve children were handed over to aliens known as the 456. Twelve children to save the whole planet. I guess it sounded like an acceptable sacrifice. It wasn’t. Because the 456 came back.”_

He found a secluded little coffee shop in Essex. There was at least one like this in every city, and Jack made a point of seeking them out. The coffee was never quite right – too hot or too cold, too bitter, too sweet, too much cream or not enough. It was quickly becoming apparent to Jack that Ianto had spoiled him rotten with his intrinsic ability to know what Jack wanted, even when Jack himself wasn’t aware of the craving.

Still, the coffee was drinkable – more so than the coffee in the big commercial chains – and with his hands curled around a hot mug, the aroma automatically transported Jack’s mind to Ianto.

The memories scraped against his already raw insides, and Jack felt torn between wanting to push them away and cradling them close, losing himself in better times. He opted for the latter option, partly because there was some comfort in remembering – always with an edge of pain, but better than nothing – and partly because he’d promised. He’d promised Ianto that he wouldn’t forget him, and he had every intention of taking that promise seriously.

A distant voice in Jack’s head argued that torturing himself with memories was not what Ianto had wanted from him, but it still felt _right_ to think about his lover, even if it hurt.

_“This time, they wanted ten percent of Earth’s children. And once again, the government was ready to hand them over. We wouldn’t let them. We fought back and we won... but at what cost?”_

It was raining softly as Jack made his way through the streets of Aberdeen. He was hardly aware of it. His greatcoat kept most of the damp out, and anyway, he had somewhere to be; a meeting to attend, more people to convince.

A tune drifted out of one of the pubs he passed. Unconsciously, Jack stepped closer. He’d always been rather fond of pub sessions, although what with Torchwood taking up all his time, he’d hardly had any time for social gatherings in the last century. He was just about to make up his mind about whether he should go in – there were people here, too, after all, and a certain amount of alcohol might make it easier for them to accept the idea of changing reality by dreaming – when the lyrics registered in his mind.

Aye waukin', O  
Waukin' aye and weary,  
Sleep I can get nane  
For thinkin' o' my dearie.  
Aye waukin' O!

Summer's a pleasant time  
Flowers o' ev'ry colour  
The water runs o'er the heugh,  
And I long for my true lover.

Jack stood rooted to the spot, struggling to swallow, his throat suddenly very tight. Hot tears he couldn’t hold back mingled with raindrops on his cheeks. It was too much, a feeling like a knife twisting in his heart. Somewhere inside him, something that was already badly ravaged, cracked and shattered all over again.

As soon as the paralysis left him, Jack all but fled.

_“Too many people died, too many lives were destroyed beyond repair. It doesn’t have to be like this. What if it never happened? What if you could do something to ensure it never happened?”_

The nights were always the hardest. During the day, Jack could distract himself with spreading the message, focusing on his goal, but when the day wound to a close, he couldn’t silence his mind. Granted, not all memories and musings were unpleasant, but even the good ones brought on bouts of longing that tugged at his heart. It didn’t help that since becoming immortal, he’d never been able to sleep much.

This evening it was particularly bad. No matter how hard he tried, Jack couldn’t stop Ianto’s death replaying in front of his inner eye. He remembered how still he had been in the end, his skin so cold—

With a determined effort, Jack wrestled the memory to the ground and stuffed it back into the deep corner of his mind it had come from. He scowled at the darkness and all but snarled, “You can’t have him!”

Suddenly, Jack felt as if someone was watching him, listening. He turned. There was no-one there, but the strange sensation of a presence in the room remained; not threatening or malevolent, but more interested and almost amiable.

_Pull yourself together,_ Jack admonished himself. _If you start jumping at shadows, you’ll crack._

There was a pressure building up inside him, though, and the need to vent was overwhelming. Setting his jaw, Jack continued in a low, resolute tone of voice, “He survived Canary Wharf. His cyber-girlfriend didn’t manage to kill him, and I didn’t execute him for committing treason. He survived cannibals wanting to bleed and eat him, Abaddon, and regular alien invasions. John and Gray. Daleks stealing the Earth. He survived it all. The Master tortured him to death, but I got him back. I’ll get him back this time as well, got it? You’re _not_ keeping him!”

There was no answer, of course. Jack could have sworn that there was a strange rustling sound at the edge of hearing, and the feeling of being watched subsided as quickly as it had come.

_Talking to yourself, are you now?_ Jack thought wryly, but much to his surprise, he found that he felt a little better. The depression that had once again threatened to settle over him was gone, replaced by calm conviction.

“Do you hear me, Ianto?” he said softly. “I’ll get you back.”

_“One mind is not strong enough to make a dream truly real. But what if it were more than one?”_

Jack had been travelling for a while now; long enough that it was beginning to be difficult to keep track of where he was, let alone what day it was. But this was one date he wouldn’t forget.

19th August.

Striking a match, Jack lit the candle he’d placed on the table. “Happy Birthday, Ianto,” he said quietly. The flickering light of the flame reflected in his eyes.

26\. Ianto would have been 26 today. So young. It was easy to forget that sometimes; the youth carefully hidden behind perfectly tailored suits, a serious demeanour and sarcasm. It was only when Ianto smiled or in the relaxation of deep sleep that his true age showed.

Staring at the candle, Jack cast his mind back to the beginning of his relationship with Ianto, his eyes glazing over as he gazed at something just beyond sight.

How had they ever gotten to the point where life without Ianto was something he couldn’t bear? It certainly hadn’t seemed like that in the beginning. To say that their relationship had got off to a rocky start was quite possibly the understatement of the century.

With the benefit of hindsight, Jack knew that he should have paid more attention to Ianto when the young man first started to work for him. He’d _seen_ the aftermath of Canary Wharf, after all.

Torchwood One had send out a call for backup when they realised that they were caught between Daleks and Cybermen, but by the time anyone had been able to get there, it was already too late. The Doctor might have saved the world, but there had been a lot of casualties.

Jack remembered the screaming, fire everywhere, the stench of blood and burned flesh almost a palpable presence in the air. It had been like walking straight into hell. Almost a thousand people working there, barely more than twenty survivors. All the rest exterminated, deleted or converted.

How close had Ianto himself been to being converted into something metallic and horrible; his humanity, everything that made him who he was, stripped away in a whirl of knives and blood and pain? Jack didn’t know. He’d never asked. Not once did he try to find out how Ianto was coping with what had happened.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t given much thought to Ianto at all back then, beyond the fact that he looked good in a suit and made fantastic coffee. And then all hell had broken loose.

And yet, even in the thrall of the anger at Ianto’s betrayal, when he held a gun to the young man’s head and threatened to kill him, Jack had known deep down that he’d never really do it. How could he punish Ianto for something he might have done himself if Rose or the Doctor had been in Lisa’s place? Hell, he _knew_ he would willingly rip the universe apart to save Ianto right now.

Proof that he had been right to let Ianto keep his life as well as his memories despite the Cyberwoman debacle came in a form that Jack wouldn’t have expected.

After the business with the faeries, when Jack had been forced to let them take the Chosen One, and Owen and the girls were giving him the cold shoulder because of it, Ianto had been the only one to still talk to him without contempt; the only one who seemed to understand that sometimes, the only available option was the lesser of two evils. The unspoken forgiveness in the sentiment was not lost on Jack.

He’d made sure to take notice of Ianto from then on, tried to include him in the team more.

Of course, that first mission to Brecon Beacons almost ended in disaster...

The red mist of rage that had descended on his vision when he’d seen Ianto bound and gagged, bruised and scared out of his mind, a cleaver held to his throat, had taken Jack by surprise, so much so that he’d completely lost control. He was sure that if Gwen hadn’t stopped him, he would have killed every one of those cannibals for what they’d done. But during Ianto’s recovery, they had taken their first tentative steps towards each other.

And then, just when their fragile trust in each other had been rebuilt, when there had been the first inklings that a proper relationship might be a possibility, the Doctor had shown up...

With work the only thing to keep him going during Jack’s absence, Ianto had taken on more responsibilities within the team, which led to him developing more confidence in himself. It proved a great help when Jack returned and they worked on rekindling their relationship, because it meant that Ianto at least occasionally actually told Jack when he was upset and why.

Still, how they’d gotten from there to where they were now was still a mystery to Jack. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Maybe that was why he couldn’t let Ianto go, why he needed him back so desperately. They had beaten all the odds so far; death was merely the latest in a long line of obstacles, and Jack had no intention of falling at the last hurdle.

_"What if a thousand minds dreamt that humanity stood up to the 456 in 1965 and defeated them completely? If a thousand minds dreamt the same thing at the same time, it would become reality!"_

Night had just fallen, the air crisp and clear. Jack had always had a thing for heights; Ianto always used to worry about his tendency to stand far too close to the edge of far too high buildings. There was something about having the world spread out at his feet that gave Jack peace of mind. But now, standing on a hill, Jack only felt restless. He didn’t want to risk missing his chance to contact that spaceship. Who knew when another one might come along? He also had to admit that he was a bit uneasy about seeing Gwen.

He hadn’t told her what he was doing; as far as she was concerned, he was travelling to clear his head. After all, even though Gwen had cared about Ianto, she had a baby on the way now, and although there was no reason to think she wouldn’t have a child in an altered timeline, Jack couldn’t offer her any guarantees. No, it was better that she didn’t know.

He could tell that it was going to be bad as soon as he saw her approach him, hand in hand with Rhys. She looked happy, they both did, and something in Jack’s chest clenched into a painful knot, and he could feel stinging behind his eyes. Best to get this over with quickly.

“Couldn’t have just chosen a pub, could you?” If she felt anything but teasing amusement, it didn’t show in her voice.

“It’s bloody freezing,” Rhys put in. “My feet.”

“Oh, I miss that, the Welsh complaining.” Jack couldn’t quite keep the bitter edge out of his voice. How could he stand there and complain about petty discomfort, when—

Jack sharply stamped down on the anger that was rising up. Rhys hadn't meant it like that, and anyway, taking it out on him would do neither of them any good. “You look good,” he told Gwen, trying to change the subject.

“I look huge.”

“She’s bloody gorgeous,” Rhys said.

Gwen let go of Rhys’ hand and walked towards Jack. “You okay?”

_What do you think?_ Jack thought bitterly. Instead, he said, “Yeah.”

“Did it work?”

_Not yet._ “Travelled all sorts of places.” Not that he’d actually been consciously aware of any of them. “This planet is too small.” Not enough people to make the dream a reality. “This whole world is like a graveyard.”

It certainly felt like that. He’d always found it easy to understand why the Doctor loved this planet so much, but lately, he didn’t seem to be able to see the beauty in it.

“Come back with us,” Gwen pleaded gently.

_What for? To see you and Rhys playing happy families? A daily reminder that you have everything I lost?_

“Haven’t travelled far enough yet.” The more people he talked to, the better were his chances of escaping from the nightmare his life had become. But he wasn’t going to tell Gwen that. “Got a lot of dirt to shake off my shoes.” He looked up. “And right now, there’s a cold-fusion cruiser surfing the ion reefs just at the edge of the solar system, just waiting to open its transport dock. I just need to send a signal.”

Inwardly, Jack crossed his fingers that Gwen’s contacting him was about what he hoped it was. His spirit lifted ever so slightly when he saw her pull his Vortex Manipulator out of her pocket. There was still hope.

“They found it in the wreckage,” Gwen said as she handed it over with a faint smile. “Indestructible. Like its owner.”

_No, Gwen, I think you’re wrong about that. Immortal, yes, but not indestructible. Not really._

“I put on a new strap for you,” she added.

“Cost me 50 quid, that,” Rhys shouted over at them.

Jack’s jaw clenched. “Bill me.”

“Are you ever coming back, Jack?” Gwen asked tentatively.

“What for?” _If I get this right, I’ll never have gone away at all. And if I don’t… if I don’t, then there’s nothing left here for me. But that’s not an option._

“For me.”

Jack had to bite down on the response that immediately clambered up his throat - _You’ve got your husband and you’ve got your child. Isn’t that enough?_

Before he could say anything, Gwen continued, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I think it was.” _I could have stopped Ianto from going into that building. I could have told him about what happened in 1965. Maybe if he’d known, if he’d been more prepared for what we were facing..._

“No,” Gwen insisted.

“Steven and Ianto and Owen and Tosh and Suzie and...” Jack swallowed. Torchwood destroyed them all. Too much death. “All of them, because of me.”

Gwen’s eyes were watering now. “But you saved us. Didn’t you?”

“I began to like it,” Jack went on relentlessly. Being the fucking hero. It was addictive. All the people trusting him, doing anything he asked. If Ianto hadn’t been so willing to follow him anywhere, even to the gates of hell and beyond… Jack couldn’t help wondering when he’d started to take that trust for granted and stopped thinking about the consequences. “And look what I became.” Jack took a deep steadying breath. “Still, I have lived so many lives. It’s time to find another one.” One in which Ianto was still alive, and then he‘d make sure that he‘d treat him right. No more secrets, no more dancing around the things that were important.

He pushed a series of buttons on his Vortex Manipulator, sending out a signal to the spaceship.

“They died.” Tears were streaming from Gwen’s eyes. “And I am sorry, Jack, but you cannot just run away. You cannot run away.”

_I’m not._ “Oh, yes, I can. Just watch me.”

The last thing he saw before the light of the transporter beam enveloped him completely was Gwen pressing her hands to her mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle the flow of tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Aye Waukin' O" is a song by Robert Burns.


	3. Chapter 3

He'd had to adjust the hook, of course. The planets he visited now hadn't just gone through the trauma of the 456, and there were no handy support groups. Still, Jack had been a conman long enough to remember how to draw a crowd, and he'd never had a problem with keeping an audience’s attention.

_"There is an alien force known as the 456. They steal children, harvest them for a chemical compound they use as a drug. The children are artificially kept alive to ensure their supply."_

Sometimes, Jack couldn’t help wondering why he’d never told Ianto more about himself.

_“I haven’t even scratched the surface yet, have I?”_ The memory of Ianto’s words rose unbidden. There had been sadness in his tone, but what had hit Jack hardest was the resignation, like Ianto had resigned himself to the fact that Jack would never trust him with everything he was.

Jack knew why he was always so reluctant to share, of course: he’d been terrified that Ianto would see something in his past that would make him shy away. Lord knows, Jack had done plenty of despicable things in his life, before he met the Doctor.

That didn’t explain why he hadn’t told Ianto that he had a daughter and grandson, though. Alice and Steven would have gotten on well with Ianto, he was sure. And maybe, Ianto would have been able to persuade Alice that Jack was not as dangerous as she thought.

_You killed her son. You’re far more dangerous than she ever would have believed._

Jack squashed the inner voice. There hadn’t been any other choice. One child or millions. Making the tough decisions was what he did; that was his job. And he was going to make it right. If the 456 were defeated in 1965, Steven would be alive again as well.

Jack swore to himself that if – no, not if; never if – when he got Ianto back, he would introduce him to Alice and Steven.

For a fleeting second, Jack worried how Ianto would feel about his lover having a daughter who was older than Ianto himself, and then almost snorted at his own paranoia. After all, Ianto had never had a problem with Jack’s age, either.

A tiny smile curled at the corner of Jack’s mouth as he recalled a conversation he and Ianto had had shortly after their relationship turned serious.

Only half in jest, he’d asked Ianto how he felt about dating someone so much older than him. The age difference between them would have been significant enough if Jack were the age he looked, but as it was...

In his usual deadpan style, Ianto had pointed out that Jack wouldn’t even be born until several thousand years in the future, which technically meant that he was older than Jack.

They had bandied the argument back and forth amid increasing laughter, until they had both dissolved in a fit of giggles and decided that the question of who was robbing whose cradle was best left to philosophers.

Familiar longing pulled at Jack’s gut. Letting himself sink into the makeshift bed and closing his eyes, Jack focused his mind on the dream that would give him another chance.

_"They have just been to Earth to demand ten percent of humanity’s children, and they could come here next."_

It was pure chance that the Doctor ran into Jack on a planet a long way from Earth. He certainly wouldn’t have been looking for him there; the last time he’d seen him, Jack seemed to have quite happily settled down in Cardiff. Really, all the Doctor had been looking for was a moment to relax after the events on San Helios.

As soon as the door of the TARDIS swung open to reveal rolling countryside on the outskirts of a huge city, the Doctor could feel the immortal’s presence – a discordant note in the song of time that shouldn’t be there. It didn’t take him long to spot the other man sitting on a small hill, his back to the Doctor, looking out at the city.

Making up his mind, he ambled over to Jack. He’d been serious when he’d told Christina that he was better off without a new companion, but he wasn’t used to being on his own, and whatever else he might feel about Jack, they were still friends.

“Fancy meeting you here, Jack,” he said cheerfully. “I’d have thought you’d be in Cardiff, fighting the good fight for Queen and country and all that. Mind you, I wouldn’t have minded having you along on the last trip. You’d have liked Christina; a real feisty one, she was...”

The stream of chatter died off when the Doctor noticed that Jack didn’t appear to be listening. Something was wrong. Jack was usually practically bouncing with energy, but he was sitting so very still. “Jack?”

Jack looked up at him then, and the Doctor took an involuntary step back at the utter desolation in his eyes; something broken, something missing.

He let himself drop to the ground beside the immortal. Being this close to Jack wasn’t easy – it was like standing in a perfectly square room that didn’t contain a single right angle, disturbing in its impossibility, and it made his skin crawl – but natural empathy overrode the urge to back away. “What happened?”

An inner dam seemed to crumble at the question, and the whole story spilled out of Jack, all the way from sacrificing the children in 1965 to the unbearable cost at which the 456 had eventually been defeated. “I love him,” he finished, voice shaking. “Damn it, I _love_ him, and now he’s gone!”

The Doctor brought his hand up to squeeze his shoulder, compassion shining in large brown eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, Jack. So, so sorry.” He hesitated before he continued very carefully, “You know I can’t go back to change what happened, right?”

“I wasn’t going to ask you to,” Jack said. “I already know what I have to do.”

The sudden determination in his voice made an inner alarm bell go off in the Doctor’s head. “And what would that be?”

Jack told him about the dream he’d had, how he could undo what had happened.

“You really shouldn’t be messing with timelines like that, Jack. It’s wrong.” The knee-jerk reaction was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

In an instant, Jack’s eyes were blazing with rage. “What, like I’m wrong, you mean? Wasn’t that what you said?” he snapped, and then added, “A freak,” dredging up the Master’s words as well. “I’m immortal because of you! Don’t you dare tell me I shouldn’t do this. Don’t you _dare_!” The anger vanished as quickly as it had come, and Jack sagged in on himself. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean... I just miss him so fucking much.”

The Doctor rubbed Jack’s back soothingly. “I know. It’s okay, I kinda deserved that.” He sighed, trying to think how best to phrase what he wanted to say. “I can’t condone what you’re doing.” He held up his hand to stay Jack’s reply. “I can’t condone it, but I do understand. It’s just... There are things in this universe that are older than the Time Lords, older than the universe itself, even, and it’s impossible to predict their motivations. It’s entirely possible that it was genuine advice, but...

“I have to try.”

“I know. Just be careful, will you?” Maybe it was ridiculous to worry about a man who couldn’t die, but even while part of him wanted to recoil from Jack every time he looked at him, he still liked him and couldn’t help but feel responsible for him at the same time. Because in a way, Jack was right: it might have been Rose who had caused his immortality, and she certainly hadn’t meant any harm when she wished Jack back into life, she wouldn’t have had the means to do it if it weren’t for him.

Jack nodded, got up and took a deep breath to gather himself before setting off towards the city. The Doctor watched him go with a thoughtful expression on his face. It was funny, really. He’d never thought Jack the type to fall that heavily for anyone.

_You must have been a remarkable man, Ianto Jones_, he thought and abruptly found himself hoping that Jack would succeed.

Tentatively, he opened his mind to the expanse of time that flowed through and around him. The thread of the future was in constant flux, changing shape and reforming with every second. There was the beginning of something there, though; a strange eddy that was different from the normal movement of time. A grin spread over the Doctor’s features.

_Well, what do you know? You really are an impossible thing, aren’t you just, Jack? I guess if anyone could do it..._

It was no guarantee by any means, but it was something.

_"You can stop them. Dream a world in which Earth took a stand against the 456."_

At some point, Jack took to talking to Ianto. He’d never believed that there was anything after this life, but there was something soothing about talking, imagining what Ianto’s answers would be, and it stopped his mind from wandering where he didn’t want it to go. And on some level, he couldn’t help but hope that he was wrong about the afterlife, and that Ianto could hear him somehow, somewhere.

Sitting on the cot that would be his bed for the night, Jack closed his eyes. If he concentrated, he could almost imagine the bed dipping to accommodate Ianto’s weight. Almost.

“I’m sorry that I was so standoffish about the whole ‘we are a couple’ thing.” Jack sighed. This had been weighing on his mind for some time. He knew what his attitude to it might have looked like to Ianto. “I didn’t mean to diminish what we have in any way; I just don’t like putting simple labels on something so complex. And...I guess I was scared.”

Jack rubbed his hand over his face, but didn’t open his eyes. “You’ve gotten so much further under my skin than anyone has done in a long time, and it’s _terrifying_. Acknowledging it would have been...” He trailed off. Looking at it now, it hardly seemed like an adequate excuse. It wasn’t like he couldn’t guess why Ianto had kept bringing the issue up, after all.

“I know it was your first relationship with a man; I could tell,” he said, and then quickly added, “Not in a bad way, mind,” as if cutting across a response, although deep down he knew that it was just because otherwise the resulting silence would have reminded him that Ianto wasn’t really there to respond, and he wasn’t ready to let the illusion go yet. “And it was me, no less. I’ve never given you much reason to believe I was dependable, did I?” In hindsight, kissing Ianto publicly for the first time mere minutes before he disappeared with the Doctor hadn’t exactly been a smart move. “You needed to know where we stand, and I should have taken the time to talk to you about it, to explain. I _will_. We’ll do things differently when you’re back. I promise.”

_"Dream, so that your children will be safe."_

Time and places blurred together. Routine took over - go to a planet, tell the inhabitants of the dream, find a spaceship going in a convenient direction and repeat. The universe narrowed down to a tunnel, and although Jack didn't know how long it was, he knew where it ended. It didn't matter how long it took to get there, all that mattered was reaching the destination, the bright light of the goal he clung on to.

Exhausted, Jack dropped into bed after another long day. Just as he was on the brink of sleep, he heard the familiar resonating voice that had started this whole quest.

“You believed in the power of dreams.” The voice sounded pleased. “You intrigue me, Jack Harkness. Destined for so much loss, and yet your passion and love burn as bright as any sun.” There was a pause. Then, as if after long deliberation, “I’ve got a gift for you. I asked my sister not to take your Ianto Jones unless he asks for it. It has been done once before. Every hundred years, they’ll meet, and he’ll have to make a choice. Whether or not he’ll ever have a reason to want to leave is up to you.”

Jack tried to say something, but the voice interrupted him. “Shh. Sleep now, Jack Harkness. Sleep and dream.”

Jack felt something like fine grains of sand being blown in his face, and his mind faded to black.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack awoke, blinking blearily at the ceiling. A strange tingling sensation prickled under his skin as the last remnants of the dream began to blur – the same dream he’d had so often since he’d started his travels, the dream he’d spread through the universe.

Like every morning, he closed his eyes and pictured Ianto’s face.

_I’ll get you back. I swear, I’ll get you back._

There were still many parts of the universe he hadn’t been to; he would not give up hope. Taking a deep breath, he sat up and blinked the sleep from his eyes. As soon as his vision cleared, Jack looked around, confused. This wasn’t the room he’d fallen asleep in yesterday. This was—

_It can’t be._

It was their flat, the one he’d shared with Ianto.

At that moment, Jack became aware of warmth radiating from the other side of the bed, and all of a sudden, the only thing he could hear was the beating of his own heart, which seemed to have lodged itself high in his throat.

Slowly, very slowly, as if afraid that any sudden movement might shatter the tiny tendril of hope he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe in yet, he turned around.

His eyes alighted on the sleeping form beside him, the body that was as familiar to him as his own.

“Ianto,” he whispered breathlessly. _Ianto!_

The paralysis that had gripped Jack dissipated and he launched himself at his lover, wrapping his arms and legs around him as tightly as he could without cracking ribs. He buried his face in the crook of Ianto’s neck, breathing in the still familiar scent, overlaid with the hint of coffee that always seemed to cling to Ianto like a second skin. He could feel the throbbing beat of his partner’s pulse against his lips as he placed a kiss over the carotid artery, and Jack had to suppress a surge of hysterical laughter.

_It worked. Oh god, it worked. My beautiful Ianto._

Jack sent a heartfelt thanks to a white-skinned man with bottomless black eyes.

Ianto stirred in his arms, and Jack loosened his grip just enough to let the other man turn to face him.

“J’k,” Ianto mumbled sleepily and blinked at his lover. “’s everyth—?”

That was as far as he got before Jack captured his lips in a hungry kiss, his hands roaming Ianto’s body, trying to reassure himself that he was really there. Ianto’s reflexes were somewhat slowed by drowsiness, but as soon as his surprise at the sudden assault faded, he kissed back with equal force.

When Jack finally let him up for air, Ianto pulled away a little, to give his partner a searching look. “Jack. What’s the matter?”

Sighing with the happiness and relief that flooded through him, Jack pulled Ianto close again, placing little butterfly kisses along the line of the other man’s jaw, to the velvety soft skin behind his ears, down his throat and over a collar bone.

“Nothing,” Jack said between kisses. “It’s nothing.” It felt so good to taste his skin again, to feel the warm softness against his lips. It had been far too long.

Ianto tilted his head back, moaning softly. “Did you have a nightmare?” He’d noticed before that Jack often got clingy when he woke from troubled sleep. Not that he ever slept much.

Jack only hesitated for a split second. “Yeah.” After all, that was as good an explanation as any, now that the horror had apparently never taken place. And Ianto was used to the nightmares that occasionally plagued Jack.

“About me?” Ianto asked quietly. That had happened more than once since Jack had returned after running away with the Doctor, and while Jack had told him the basics of the Year That Never Was, he hadn’t yet found the courage to ask what had happened to him, Ianto, during that time to cause those nightmares.

Jack hugged him tighter and nodded. Seeing the life drain out of Ianto, holding his cooling body…waking to find his dead lover laid out beside him; the memory of it was as painful now as it had been then.

“Shh,” Ianto whispered, caressing Jack’s face with fingers and lips. “It’s okay. _I’m_ okay. It’s all right, everything is all right.” He kept up the litany of soothing murmuring until Jack finally relaxed against him.

Lying back against the pillows, he pulled Jack around until he was half sprawled across him, his head resting on Ianto’s chest.

Jack sighed when Ianto began to card his hand through his hair. The strong, steady beat of his partner’s heart under his ear was reassuring.

Sagging against Ianto’s wonderfully warm, solid and above all alive body, Jack let his gaze wander over the room. His eyes fell on a pile of papers, which seemed to have been swept off the desk with some force. He could just make out that the heading on the closest paper started with, “The Ph—”

_Hold on, I remember this._

The papers were research on The Pharm, and they were on the floor because he and Ianto had been rather...excitable when they’d arrived home. Tomorrow, Martha would be smuggled into the organisation as a clinical trial subject, to find out what they were up to.

But – Jack’s heart sped up – that meant that Owen was still alive. And Tosh. And what was more, he knew what was going to happen. He had no idea why he had been returned to this particular point in the altered timeline, but he wasn’t about to complain when it meant that he could put a bullet in Copley before he had a chance to shoot Owen. He also knew when Gray would get here and what he was planning. He could stop it all from happening; he could keep them alive.

Jack’s thoughts were interrupted when Ianto spoke up quietly. “I had a strange dream, you know.” Jack returned his attention to his partner, motioning for him to continue.

_Ianto was sitting at a table in a café. As he was looking around to figure out where he was, a young gothic-looking woman approached him and sat down beside him. There was an Ankh on a chain around her neck and a Wedjat painted around her right eye. There was something vaguely familiar about her, as if he’d met her somewhere before._

_“Ianto Jones,” she said. It was not a question._

_He nodded. “That’s me.”_

_The woman inclined her head in acknowledgement. “I’m Death,” she said._

_Somehow, Ianto knew that it was true. He nodded again. “Is this it, then?” He tried hard not to think about what his death would do to Jack. He didn’t quite succeed._

_The woman laughed a cheerful, contagious laugh. “No. Not at all. Actually, I have a proposition for you.” She gave him a searching look. “Ianto Jones, how do you feel about not dying?”_

_Confusion clouded Ianto’s features. “How do I feel about not dying right now, you mean?” What kind of question was that? Of course he didn’t want to die._

_Death’s expression softened. There was something exceptionally likable about her. “No. I mean, how do you feel about not dying? I’ll come back to ask you every hundred years, but it will always be your choice.”_

_“Why?” It sounded entirely too good to be true.___

_ _ _“Apparently, you are very precious to someone who impressed my brother.” Death shrugged. “So, do we have a deal?” She held out her hand._ _ _

_ _ _A bright smile lit up Ianto’s face as he took the offered hand and shook it. “Deal.”_ _ _

_ _ _“Peachy keen.” She grinned. “I’ll see you in a hundred years, Ianto Jones.”_ _ _

_ _Ianto sighed dreamily, bringing his hand up to play with the hair at the nape of Jack’s neck. “That’d be nice.”_ _

_ _Jack nodded, dazed. He couldn’t find the words to describe just how wonderful that would be. A memory nudged at his mind; the memory of a voice heard on the brink of sleep._ _

_ _ _"I asked my sister not to take your Ianto Jones unless he asks for it. ... Every hundred years, they’ll meet, and he’ll have to make a choice."_ _ _

_ _He swallowed hard. He wanted it to be true. Never having to lose him, not having to live in fear that Ianto could die at any moment._ _

_ _Jack pushed the hope down. If he let himself believe it and then it turned out not to be true…_ _

_ _Right now, he would make sure that Owen and Tosh survived, and he would make the most of every second of the time he had with his lover, no matter whether that time was a few years or – oh, please – forever._ _

_ _Snuggling against Ianto’s shoulder, Jack closed his eyes and let himself drift back to sleep. The Rift alarm would warn them if there were an emergency that needed to be taken care of, and aside from that, they didn’t have to be at work just yet. They could enjoy a nice, quiet morning in bed. Together._ _

_ __ _

***

Jack wasn’t really sure what brought the nightmare on. Maybe it was that Ianto had had one close call too many the previous day. The theory of Ianto’s immortality had not yet been put to the test, and Jack would rather keep it that way as long as possible.

Whatever the reason, that morning Jack jolted awake in a cold sweat, his heart beating as if it wanted to shatter his ribs. He couldn’t focus, could hardly breathe and couldn’t think beyond the chant of Ianto, Ianto, Ianto in his mind. He had to... Virus... He couldn’t... Ianto... Had to get out, had to…

“Jack?”

Warm, gentle hands on his biceps, calming voice.

“It’s all right, Jack. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Come on, Jack, look at me.”

Fingers on his chin, softly but firmly coaxing him to look up. And then he was looking into Ianto’s eyes, and the terror of the nightmare immediately released its grip on Jack.

Ianto’s eyes always reminded Jack of the Welsh sky – all different shades of blue and grey that changed and shifted depending on the weather that was his mood. Right now, they were clouded with concern.

Pulling his lover closer against his side and gently stroking his back, Ianto wondered what was going on. Jack hadn’t had this much difficulty surfacing from a nightmare since the first few weeks after returning from the Year That Never Was. Clinginess, yes, he was used to that – a need to reaffirm that the dream wasn’t real – but it had been a long time since Jack last needed to be guided back into full awareness.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ianto asked carefully, not pushing, just letting Jack know that he was willing to listen.

Jack gave that some thought. He hadn’t planned on telling Ianto what had happened in the other timeline, mainly because the thought of reliving Ianto’s death by talking about it made his heart twist painfully. What he really wanted to do was bury the memory in a deep corner of his mind, so that he wouldn’t ever have to think about it again.

_Except it’s not working, is it?_

No, it wasn’t. Maybe... Maybe it really wasn’t such a bad idea to let it all out. Jack nodded slowly. His nerves still twanged, though, and he fervently wished he had something to calm himself down. A coffee, perhaps.

If Ianto was surprised by Jack’s agreeing to share, he didn’t let it show. “Okay. I’ll make us some coffee first, though – you look like you need it.”

Jack smiled fondly at his partner’s retreating back. Sometimes, he couldn’t help wondering if Ianto had received any psychic training during his time at Torchwood One – the London branch had had a bit of a reputation in that regard, after all. It would certainly explain why Ianto always seemed to be able to anticipate their needs; not just Jack’s, but those of the rest of the team as well. Of course – Jack grinned – maybe Ianto just had a sixth sense when it came to coffee.

It didn’t take long until Ianto returned with two steaming mugs. Jack took a sip, noting that Ianto had put in a little more cream than Jack usually took. It was exactly what he needed right now, though, and Jack smiled. Definitely some sort of sixth sense.

Sitting back against the headboard and spreading his legs, Jack beckoned Ianto to lean against his chest. If he were going to do this, he needed his partner close. Jack took another gulp of coffee and wrapped his free arm around the other man’s waist.

“Something happened. The end of the world, or at least it felt that way. Owen and Tosh were dead, and we were desperately understaffed, which didn’t exactly help matters. Except none of it happened now.”

“Like that year you were with the Doctor?”

“Yeah, something like that.” It wasn’t quite the same thing, but it would do as an analogy. “Back in 1965, there was an alien invasion in Britain. We never knew their name, just called them the 456. They demanded twelve children and threatened to release a virus that would wipe out the entire population of the planet if they didn’t get what they wanted. There didn’t seem to be any way of stopping them.”

“So the children were handed over?” Ianto sounded more than a little horrified at the notion.

Jack nodded. “I saw it.” He didn’t elaborate on the role he’d played that first time round; the memory of the disappointment in Ianto’s eyes was all too vivid. And anyway, it had all been different now. “And for forty-four years, that seemed to be it,” he continued, “but they came back, and this time, they wanted ten percent of Earth’s children.”

Finishing his coffee, Jack put the mug on the bedside table and pulled Ianto a little closer. This was where the difficult part started.

“Do you know what the first thing the government did was?” Jack laughed bitterly. “They tried to cover up the fact that they’d had dealings with the 456 before. That included eliminating everyone who might give away their secret.”

“Including you?”

“Yeah.”

“But...you can’t die, right?”

“I think they were aware of that, too, because they certainly got inventive.”

Jack’s voice had taken on a dark edge at the memory, and Ianto’s brow creased in concern. The question of what exactly Jack meant by that was practically tangible in the air around him, but Jack knew Ianto wouldn’t ask if he didn’t elaborate of his own accord. For a moment, Jack debated whether or not to go into more detail. He knew all too well how much it upset Ianto every time Jack died, despite the immortality, so not telling him might spare him some unnecessary trauma. On the other hand, being blown up and buried in cement were things Jack was liable to have nightmares about eventually, and then Ianto would have to deal with it anyway. Better to get it all out in one sitting.

“First, they shot me and put a bomb into my stomach while I was out. It was pure luck that I got close enough to the scanner in the Hub to realise it in time to get you and Gwen out of the building.”

Ianto blanched. “A bomb? In your stomach? But there’d be nothing left of you,” he exclaimed, unknowingly echoing his outburst from the other timeline.

“They weren’t going to take any chances on that being enough, so they collected all the bits they could find and kept them in a secure building under observation.”

“Did you...?” Ianto trailed off, but Jack knew what he was asking: _Did you survive?_

“Of course. I can survive anything, you know that. I just had to regrow my body,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual in an attempt to lighten the mood. It wasn’t working. Ianto was starting to look distinctly green around the edges, and Jack promptly decided to spare him the information that he’d been nowhere near fully healed when he’d first regained consciousness. “So, when they realised that they really couldn’t kill me, they decided to immobilise me instead; buried me in quick-drying cement.”

Ianto winced, and Jack kissed his temple. “You rescued me. You found a forklift truck and got me out.” He tried not to contemplate how Ianto would have known where to find him. The only way he could think of was that Ianto must have actually followed the assassins, and he didn’t want to imagine what it must have done to his young lover if he’d been close enough to see what was left of Jack after the explosion or to hear his screams. “You look really hot in construction gear,” he added as salaciously as he could, to take both their minds off the horror.

That finally elicited a chuckle from Ianto. “You think I look hot no matter what I wear.”

“That’s because you do,” Jack purred into his ear.

“Stop it, you,” Ianto retorted good-naturedly.

They took a moment to revel in each other’s proximity before Ianto spoke up again. “So, was that what you were dreaming about?” It was certainly enough to give anyone nightmares. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how horrible it must have been for Jack to live through that, and Ianto wished he could do something more to help than just listen.

Jack closed his eyes and swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat.

_Last chance to back out. You can tell him that you were dreaming about your own death, not his. He’d believe it, no questions asked._

Jack swallowed again. He’d made his decision. “No. No, it wasn’t.”

Ianto put his by now empty mug down to join Jack’s on the bedside table and twisted around in the other man’s embrace, until he was sitting across his lap. He suspected that this would be easier for Jack if they could make eye contact.

Wrapping one arm around Jack’s shoulders and resting his free hand right above his heart, Ianto snuggled against his partner’s bare chest and waited for Jack to continue. He could feel the rapid pounding of his heartbeat and wondered what could possibly be worse than what Jack had already told him.

Jack took a deep breath to find the inner resolve to keep going, holding on to Ianto as if he was afraid he might disappear if he dared to let go. “After you got me out, we were on the run – Gwen, Rhys, you and me. We had nowhere to go, so we hid in an old warehouse in London—“

“I don't suppose it happened to be the one that was abandoned by Torchwood One?”

Jack gave Ianto a surprised look. “I’m not even going to ask.” Ianto had been the one to suggest the place in the aborted timeline as well, but at the time, they’d had too much on their minds to wonder how Ianto knew it was there and, more importantly, still unused.

“I’m an archivist, remember? It’s my job to know everything,” Ianto deadpanned.

The urge to kiss the younger man that suddenly welled up inside him was overwhelming, so Jack gave in to the temptation. The kiss was slow and sensual, tongues stroking and caressing, and Jack gave himself over to the sensation, letting it chase away the memory of cold, motionless lips.

When they pulled apart, Ianto settled back against his partner, and Jack continued, “Anyway, we somehow needed to get our hands on money and equipment, so Gwen had the idea that if we were being treated like criminals, we might as well be criminals. We managed to thieve together everything we needed to find out what was going on.” Another memory assaulted Jack, and he found himself unexpectedly choked up with emotion. “And… And you got us coffee and a change of clothes. You e—” He had to stop for a moment to collect himself. “You even managed to find a new coat for me.”

Ianto tilted his head in thought. “Get Jack; get coffee; a new suit; a coat for Jack,” he said, as if ticking things off an inner checklist. “Well, at least I’ve got my priorities straight.”

The laugh that escaped Jack at that could just as easily have been a sob. “Rhys took a laptop with evidence of what the government was up to and went into hiding, ready to make the material public at a signal from Gwen, and Gwen stayed in the warehouse to wait for the people who were after us, to blackmail them into helping. And—and we went to confront the 456.” He took a ragged breath. “I should have made you go with Rhys, or stay with Gwen. It was my fault; I shouldn’t have let you come with me, I should—”

“Hey, hey. None of that.” Ianto cupped Jack’s face in his hands, gently wiping a tear from his lover’s cheek with his thumb. “Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault. I’d never have let you leave me behind; you know me better than that.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Jack’s lips and wrapped him in a tight hug, until he felt his partner relax fractionally.

Eventually, Jack continued in an uncharacteristically brittle voice, “We told the 456 that they wouldn’t get a single child; that we would fight back.” He blinked away the tears that were threatening to fall. He could break down when this was over. “T—They sealed the building and released a virus. I tried to get you out, I did, but you’d already breathed it in, and…and…” Jack clung to Ianto like a lifeline, burying his face against the crook of his neck. He tried to centre himself with the warmth radiating from the other man’s body, but the memory was breaking through the barrier he’d erected around it and mercilessly swept through him, leaving him trembling in its wake. “You collapsed. ... I would have let them have the children, if they’d given me an antidote for you, but—”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Ianto admonished gently.

But Jack remembered – _Then I take it back. I take it all back, but not him!_ – and shook his head. “Yes, I would. But they wouldn’t, and you were in my arms and dying, and there was nothing I could do, not a thing.” Jack had to stop again, as his heart clenched. “You were so scared that I’d forget you, and I promised that I wouldn’t, and then you said...you...” A sob wrenched its way out of his throat. “You said you loved me, and I—It was too much like goodbye; I couldn’t—”

He pulled away far enough to look at Ianto, desperation swimming in wet eyes. “You know I love you, don’t you? Because I do. I couldn’t say it back right then, but I do.”

Truth be told, in some of his darker moments, Ianto sometimes wondered if Jack felt as much for him as he felt for Jack; if Jack actually loved him. Since he’d returned from the Doctor, Jack had been making a much more earnest effort to show Ianto that he was loved, though, and those moments of doubt were now few and far between.

“Yeah, I know you do, Jack,” he said softly, carding his fingers through his partner’s hair. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about Jack being this broken by his death. On the one hand, the knowledge that he cared this much warmed Ianto to the core, but on the other hand, until they knew for sure whether he was now as immortal as Jack, there was still a danger that he _would_ die one day, and the thought of leaving Jack this destroyed was unbearable.

Ianto pushed those concerns aside. There was nothing he could do about the future either way. Instead, he focused on the here and now.

Wrapping himself around his partner as tightly as he could, Ianto whispered soothing nonsense into his ear. Jack’s fingers were digging into his sides hard enough to leave bruises, but Ianto didn’t mind. If Jack needed to hold onto him to reassure himself that he was really here, Ianto wasn’t about to deny him that.

Eventually, Jack calmed down and his grip loosened a little. Slowly, he let his hands wander up Ianto’s back, taking the time to explore, enjoying the sensation of muscles shifting under his fingers. Sliding his hands into Ianto’s hair, he pulled the young man into an urgent kiss. Ianto responded to the kiss more forcefully than he usually would. He could sense that Jack needed to feel him react, needed as much tangible evidence as possible that Ianto was alive.

By the time they separated, Jack seemed far more composed. He still wasn’t any more inclined to let go of Ianto completely, though, one hand trailing up and down his lover’s arm.

Ianto sighed contentedly, drawing random patterns on Jack’s chest with one finger. There was still more to the story, though, so after a moment of comfortable silence, he asked, “Did you save the world in the end?”

Jack tensed for a second, but relaxed again almost immediately. “Yeah.” He wasn’t going to go into the details of that. Ianto didn’t need to know, and the memory was oddly blurry in his mind anyway. Jack could remember the sharp pain and regret he’d felt at having to sacrifice his grandson, but he also remembered that the pain had been strangely _distant_. Detached. As if an essential part of him had gone missing.

“Well, that’s something, I guess.” Ianto traced a lazy circle around Jack’s navel, before he went on, “Now, I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but I don’t feel particularly dead. What happened? Did the Doctor reverse time again?” It was the only explanation he could think of, really.

Jack shook his head. “No. He can’t do that. The only reason time could be reversed that year was that it had taken place inside a paradox. Time reversed automatically once the paradox was destroyed.”

“Well, what then?”

“I had a dream.” Ianto raised an eyebrow at him, and Jack chuckled. “Don’t look at me like that. I did. It didn’t feel like a regular dream, though. It was more, I don’t know, real. There was this man, and he told me that enough people dreaming the same thing at the same time can make that dream real. So, I started travelling, telling people how they could take away the horror they’d experienced. I figured, if humanity had stood up to the 456 in 1965 and destroyed them completely, this second encounter would never have happened.” Then he added more quietly, “You wouldn’t have died.”

Ianto tried to wrap his head around what Jack was saying. “You... You travelled the whole planet? For me?”

Jack shook his head. “It wasn’t enough. Persuading people that it would work and that it would be a good thing was not that difficult. You know me, I can be very persuasive when I want.” He gave a small laugh. “But people can’t control their dreams that easily. So when Gwen found my Vortex Manipulator, I hitched a ride on the closest spaceship and kept going. You know, increase the odds by increasing the numbers.”

While Jack was talking, Ianto’s eyes got wider and wider. The implication was enough to boggle the mind. “How...” He swallowed and tried again. “How long...?”

“I don’t remember.” Jack shrugged. “I lost track of time after a while. All I knew was that if I told enough people, I could get you back.”

The enormity of what Jack had done was beginning to sink in, and it made Ianto’s head spin. It was too much to grasp, and no matter how much he wracked his brain, he couldn’t for the world of him imagine why Jack would go to that much trouble for him.

“Why?” It made no sense. Jack could have gone off to find the Doctor, or that Time Agent, John Hart. Surely, they had more to offer him than Ianto did. Adventure and excitement, all of time and space...

“At the risk of sounding like a shampoo advert: you’re worth it.”

The expression in Jack’s crystal blue eyes belied the light-hearted tone of voice, and suddenly Ianto lunged at him, kissing him hard and deep, as if he was trying to pour his very essence into the older man. Every doubt and fear he’d ever had about Jack’s commitment flowed out of him in a rush, and it left behind a feeling of dizzying elation.

"I can't possibly ever make that up to you," was all he got out before Jack dove in to plunder his mouth again.

"Stay," Jack breathed. "Just stay. Stay with me."

Ianto nodded - of course he'd stay, he was exactly where he wanted to be - and then they sank down onto the mattress, bodies tangling, all but melting into each other; two halves of one whole coming together. Found and lost and found again. And all the more precious for finally, finally understanding what it was they had.

_***_

Much, much later, a young gothic woman approached a blue-eyed man in a pristine suit. He appeared to be in his twenties.

They looked at each other in quiet understanding.

“Ianto Jones, do you want to die?”

Ianto smiled. “No.”

And he knew that his answer wouldn’t change as long as Jack drew breath.

**Author's Note:**

> The quote "Revelation is the province of dreams" comes from the Sandman comics, which I highly recommend to everyone.
> 
> The idea of enough people dreaming the same thing changing reality comes from the story "A Dream of a 1000 Cats" in 'The Sandman: Dream Country'.


End file.
